


The Traps That Hold Us

by slutpunk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Asphyxiation, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Choking, Cock Rings, Cock Slapping, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Domestic Violence, M/M, Nipple Play, Prostitution, Sloppy Seconds, Smoking, Violence, Voyeurism, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 14:56:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1783099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slutpunk/pseuds/slutpunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel knows he will never escape. He doesn't want to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Traps That Hold Us

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this ages ago and finally finished it. Based on the manga "Adult na Kaihatsushitsu." Enjoy!

“What the _hell_ happened to your face?”

Charlie’s cheeks looked as red as her hair, her eyes wide and Castiel knew it was because she was angry. The bigger her eyes got, the angrier she was. 

“Nothing. I’m fine.” 

“’Nothing?’ That doesn’t look like nothing.” 

He knows she’s going to do it as soon as she starts screeching. Her hand comes up to grip his chin, turning it this way and that. Examining it. He already knows what it looks like – the bruise on his cheek – it’s a light gray, not old enough yet to darken and purple. But he knows it will. 

Castiel is pliant, waiting for her to tsk and flush red again. She does, shaking her head and Castiel sees the worry in her eyes as she drags her office chair over from the cubicle across from his. 

“Was it him?” Her eyes are so wide and so pretty, so open and willing to listen. Castiel just clenches his jaw, turning his fingers back to his keyboard, his eyes back to his work. “Cas, come on, you can tell me. I can help—“ 

“I fell. Tripped over my own two feet on the way in to work this morning.” The words are so easy, his voice is so flat. His heart is racing and he’s willing her to leave it alone, even as his hands start typing code again. 

“Yeah. Sure, Cas.” Sadness, bitterness, frustration. Castiel keeps typing until Charlie moves back to her own cubicle and he can see her head shaking back and forth. 

He waits until he hears her typing again before he stops typing. He wishes that he could tell her, that he could make her see the way he sees. 

 

Castiel is older than Dean Winchester, but not by much. He knew the name in high school, watched some football games where Dean Winchester made the winning throw, but after he went to university in Boston, he never saw the man again. 

Then there was the night that Charlie dragged Castiel out to another bar that she just had to go to. And there was Dean, manning the bar with a smirk and a wink, doing shots with his patrons. Castiel tried so hard not to watch Dean, tried to pretend he didn’t notice that Dean noticed him too. But that night Dean came home with him. And the next night and the night after that until it just seemed easier for Dean to move in. 

 

“What do you mean you quit?” 

“Couldn’t stand that fucking job anyway.”

“Well, do you have another one?”

“Nah, you’ll take care of me, right baby?” Dean reached his hand up to stroke through Castiel’s hair, but he jerked his head away. 

“Dean, you can’t just quit! I just started at R.R.E., I can’t afford to take care of both of us. What the fuck are you thinking—“

The blow took him by surprise, knocked him back down on to the bed. He didn’t cry out, just reached his hand up and felt the wetness at his lip. Blood. He was shaking when Dean sat up, cradling Castiel’s face in his palms, thumb soothing gently over the mark he had left. 

“You love me, don’t you, Cas?” 

His eyes were so sweet, so sincere, his mouth giving that little smile that was just for him. Just for Castiel.  

Castiel nodded, blinking back tears. 

“You’ll take care of me. You’ll take care of both of us.” 

Dean’s hand slid down, around Castiel’s back, slipping a finger inside easily. He was still sore from just moment earlier, but he was frozen. He didn’t fight when Dean pushed him down to the bed, when Dean shoved inside him, teeth biting and hands gripping bruises into his skin. 

 

Castiel pulled his bag off his shoulder, letting it drop to the floor. Their apartment was small, but it was theirs. 

“You’re late.” 

Dean’s arms were crossed over his chest and Castiel’s blood seemed to throb at the sight of him. A thin shirt clung to tight muscles, open at the neck and Castiel recognized it as one he bought for Dean. His hair was still wet from a shower and Castiel knew he must have only just gotten out of bed.  

“Yeah, sorry. I had something to finish up for tomorrow.” Castiel toed his shoes off before going to Dean, leaning up on to the tips of his toes for a kiss. 

“There’s someone waiting for you.”  

Castiel froze halfway to the kiss, feeling like every muscle seized up. 

“Better hurry and get cleaned up. He’s been waiting a while.” Dean’s hand wrapped around his arm to pull him down the hall but Castiel dug his heels in. 

“Wasn’t last time enough? I thought I gave you enough spending money, you said it would only be one time—“  

“Your spare change? I’m not a kid on allowance.” 

“I know, I just—“  

“You don’t love me?” Dean was closing off, eyes guarded, cold. 

“I do! I do, I do! I just—“ He was gripping at Dean, pulling him in close.  

Dean pulled him in too, his hands seeming so big on Castiel’s shoulders. “You said you would take care of me, Cas.”  

“I am. I will.” Castiel didn’t know what to do, what else he could do but move in even closer, grind against Dean’s crotch. It wasn’t long until Dean was pushing him down and Castiel went willingly.  

His hands didn’t stumble as he pulled Dean’s cock out, stroking it to hardness before Dean was gripping his head and pushing Castiel’s mouth down on his cock. Castiel gagged as Dean shoved in hard, his hips giving sharp, hard jabs into his mouth.  

“Such a slut.” Dean was murmuring above him and Castiel couldn’t block his voice out. “Just gotta have my cock, don’t you? Can’t go a day without getting your mouth fucked. Bet any cock would do for a dirty fucking slut like you.”  

Castiel wanted to tell him it wasn’t true, but he couldn’t breathe. Dean liked it this way, liked to tangle his hands into Castiel’s hair and use it to yank him down on his cock. His sac slapped against Castiel’s chin and drool was dribbling out the sides of his mouth as he choked, struggled to breathe. Castiel’s cock was just as hard in his pants, aching and he worried that maybe it meant he was like Dean. Maybe he liked it this way too.  

Hands yanked his head back hard, forcing his head to tilt back uncomfortably as Dean’s cock rested on his cheek, spilling come all over the bruise there. Above him, Dean was groaning, rocking his hips forward on instinct, spreading the fresh come over his face.  

Castiel pressed his face into it, feeling such a strange sort of calm come over him as the smooth head of Dean’s cock continued to rub against his face.  

He never saw it coming, not in moments like this. Dean used his grip in Castiel’s hair to shove him away, the force of it taking him by surprise and he fell back on his rear, shoulder knocking into the hall wall.  

“Now I told you to get cleaned up.” 

 

Castiel could hear them talking as they came to the bedroom, but everything was dark. The blindfold was tight so not even a sliver of light could get through. Bits of his hair had caught in the knot of the blindfold and it hurt his scalp to turn his head. He lay on his side on their bed, effectively immobile. He’d learned quickly not to squirm, that it only ended up making the rope burns worse. His wrists were pulled back and lashed together with hemp rope, not quite tight enough to cut off his circulation, but tight enough to hurt.  

As soon as he had finished showering, Dean had been there, shoving him up against the wall with one hand braced to his chest while the other stroked Castiel to hardness. Only when he was openly begging for Dean to make him come did Dean pull out the cock ring and lock it around the base of Castiel cock and balls. He had let out a dry sob then, leaning his head forward onto Dean’s chest. Dean had let him rest there for a few moments while he gathered himself, tried to get used to the painful throb of his cock – and then Dean was shoving him back, snapping at him to finish drying off.  

“—serious?” 

“Yeah, man. Anything you want. Just don’t leave any permanent marks.”  

There are hands on his face suddenly and Castiel gasps, fighting the urge to turn his face away from the touch. Dean won’t like it if he fights. He learned that the first time.  

“Hey.” Dean’s voice, angry and frightening. Castiel dares to hope that maybe Dean has changed his mind. “Money first, then you can fuck him.”  

Castiel feels like sobbing as his… customer apologizes and he listens to the shuffle of cloth, listens to the soft sound of paper as Dean counts the money, presumably. He’s trying to focus on those minor things, not on the hands exploring his face again.  

“Why’s his face covered?” The man’s voice is deep and maybe it’d be soothing any other time. If the man’s hands were exploring more, sliding down his body, over the dip of his waist, admiring the smooth legs. Dean made him shave when there was a customer.  

“You don’t need to see his face to fuck him.”  

“Guess you’re right.”  

He’s trying hard to control his breathing as the man shoves him back on to the pillows and his hands are large as they glide over Castiel’s chest. Thumbs brush against his nipples and he gasps, the feeling sending a shock through him. They’re gentle at first, rubbing and flicking lightly, testing his reaction. But they get rough quickly, first pinching, then pulling, then twisting until Castiel is shaking, heaving out gasps.  

“You’re gonna watch?” The man asks as one hand leaves Castiel chest while the other goes up to his mouth, pushing two fingers inside and Castiel immediately closes his mouth around them, sucking and twisting his tongue around the digits. It’s more curiosity in the man’s voice than any kind of ire.

“Part of the deal. You mind?” Castiel is glad Dean will stay; he doesn’t think he could do this otherwise. Not that he really has much of a choice. 

There’s no answer, just the shifting of cloth and the sound of a zipper. The fingers in his mouth push deeper for a moment, as if testing him and then they’re pulling away. A big hand wraps around his shoulder and pulls him back onto his side and he’s grateful for it, the pressure of his weight on his bound hands cutting off the circulation in his arms. But there’s no time to be grateful.  

He smells it first, not a bad smell, just the smell of soap and a bit of sweat. Then the smooth head of the man’s cock is rubbing over his lips, thick and warm. The man’s hand threads through his hair. 

“Tongue.” He demands with a yank on Castiel’s hair, and he gives a little cry as he obediently opens his mouth and lets his tongue hang out. Immediately, the man starts slapping his cock against Castiel’s tongue, rubbing it over his tongue, thrusting it into his mouth shallowly. He alternates between this and slapping his wet cock against Castiel face, right on the bruise that Dean gave him.  

“He gonna bite?” The man sounded breathless.  

“Nah, he knows better.” Somehow hearing that from Dean made Castiel feel just a bit proud. 

The man pushes his cock inside again, this time going deeper. There’s a small part of him that wants to bite down, wants to fight, but he knows better, he's learned better. So instead, he closes his mouth tight around the man’s cock, thick – thicker than Dean’s – and twists his tongue along the underside, just as he did for the man’s fingers. But he keeps going, pressing his cock inside until it hits the back of Castiel’s throat and he has to fight down the urge to gag around him. Still, the man pushes more, until Castiel’s nose is buried in the coarse hair at the base of his cock. He hears a low groan of satisfaction above him and the hand in his hair twists as the man uses it to keep him there.  

Castiel tries to breathe shallowly through his nose, but soon enough it’s getting hard to breathe and he starts to choke, squirming on the bed as he tries to pull back. At first, the man just continues to hold him there, groaning again and louder as he holds Castiel in place. Only when Castiel starts to cough, when the blood feels like it’s pounding in his face and his eyes are watering, only then does the man pull away.  

Castiel rolls forward as he gasps and coughs, pulling in as much air as he can. He’s given a moment of reprieve – probably longer than Dean would have given him – and then the man is pushing him onto his side again, shoving his cock inside.  

There’s nothing slow about it this time. The man is brutal when he pries Castiel’s mouth open with his fingers and thrusts his cock inside. He uses both hands to get a good grip on Castiel’s hair, dragging Castiel down onto his cock again and again and again. He pounds into Castiel’s mouth, grunting with the effort and, maybe – hopefully – the pleasure, too. 

His cock hits the back of Castiel’s throat with every thrust, and he struggles to keep his gag reflex in control. He still chokes, tears flowing freely, spit leaking down his chin when the man holds him still again, holds his mouth down on his cock until he starts to struggle.  

The man does it several times, fucking his mouth, holding him still, letting him breathe, then doing it all over again. Castiel loses track of time, just tries to breathe, tries to be good.  

When it finally stops, his throat feels raw, he keeps coughing, sputtering, and his head is spinning. His arms ache, but he comforts himself with the thought that it could be worse. It has been worse before.  

The man above him sounds winded, murmuring, “Fuck. His mouth isn’t half bad.” 

There’s no answer from Dean, other than a grunt of agreement.  

They don’t speak more, Castiel’s gasps filling up the room. The hands leave him for a moment and he sags into the bedding, shivering. His cock is still hard of course and he knows that it’s probably bright red too.  

“Can you hand me my bag?” He hears the man say to Dean and his heart pounds a little, but he stays still. There’s a rustle of movement around the room and then the weight on the bed changes as something, presumably the bag, is deposited on the end. “Thanks.”  

The man zips up his pants and Castiel feels his weight leave the bed. He can hear him open the bag and rifle through it and then there’s a moment of silence.  

He screams when the first lash comes down, across his thigh. It takes him by surprise and it hurts so much, he tries to curl in around it. The next strikes across his biceps and the pain of it sends him arching back. As though he could stop the pain if he curled up small enough.  

Castiel tries to squirm away, kicking his legs to get him any direction that might be _away_. It’s not good enough. A big hand wraps around his arm and he feels so small when he screams. 

“Dean!”  

He doesn’t get the chance to scream for Dean again because then one of those big hands comes crashing down, right across his face. He’s shocked into silence by it, still trying to catch his breath, still trying to process for the pain shuddering through him.  

It only gets worse from there. 

Castiel is shoved back again, his arms crushed as the man’s hand presses against his chest hard, shoving him down into the mattress. Tears are leaking out, into the fabric of the blindfold again as he feels a much bigger body settle over him, hips pinning his own flat to the bed. His back arches uncomfortably, his arms aching, and the awkward angle makes moving difficult.  

He can’t even hope to dodge the next blow, this time from the lash or the crop, or whatever it is that the man has that’s causing him so much pain.  

The next blows are slow, hesitant almost, as though he’s testing Castiel’s skin. Finding the right angle to get just the right screams. The lashes seem to come from everywhere at once, across his chest in a cacophony of pain. It burns, it aches, it feels like it’s seeping down to his bones. Like his skin is being blown open and it just gets worse.  

Castiel screams and screams. It gets faster, gradually, building up until he can’t even catch his breath to holler any more. All he can do is lay there, let the pain wash over him and hope that there’s an end to it. He hopes – prays – that Dean won’t leave him like this.  

He’s breaking. He’s dying. It’s too much, it’s all over and it won’t go away. This isn’t like Dean, not at all. Dean is always there with a comforting touch, even when he’s at his worst. This is just pain without remorse, without care. This is torture.  

Then it stops.  

Castiel floats in a red haze, but he can just barely hear them.  

“—didn’t mean to. Just got a bit carried away, I guess.”  

“That’s gonna cost you extra now.”  

“Of course.” The man is out of breath, but he sounds pleased. 

Dean sighs. “Just fuck him and get it over with.” 

His mind goes fuzzy for a moment. When everything comes back into focus, he’s on his front, shoulders pressed down into the mattress. He'd like to say that he hardly felt it when there was pressure at his ass, but he did. No preparation, other than what he did to himself in the shower and some lube to ease the way. His voice is raw, but he cries out as the man just grips him harder and shoves his way in with a grunt.  

"Yeah, baby, that's right open up for me."  

The man's hands are exploring again, but they hurt this time. His nails scrape over raw wounds as he starts to thrust, finding a grip on Castiel's shoulders and using it to bring him down hard on his cock. Then the pounding starts, the snapping of hips so hard Castiel feels like he's about to break into pieces. His throat aches each time he cries out, unable to do anything but follow the guiding of the man's hands.  

"So tight for me, aren't you? Tight little hole so greedy for my cock."  

It gets harder, faster until Castiel can hardly breathe and he can hear the man's groans getting louder. And then he really can't breathe, not with the man's hands wrapped tight around his throat. They wrap tighter and tighter, the thrusting gets faster until his bones rattle with it and Castiel can only hope that it will be over soon or that Dean will save him.  

It's over before that though, the thrusting stops suddenly and the fingers around his throat get ever tighter as he feels warm come filling him up. He almost thinks the man will kill him with Dean standing over them, but the hands remove themselves quickly enough. A wet slapping sound fills the room as the man smacks his cock over Castiel's sensitive hole, making him twitch and then the weight is lifting off the bed.  

They barter over the damage done, but Castiel doesn't bother to try and listen. The blindfold is wet with tears, but he tries to stay quiet.  

"--for next time--"  

"Whoa, whoa, buddy. There isn't gonna be a next time."  

"What do you mean? You said--"  

"I don't give a shit what I said, you got what you paid for, now get the fuck out." 

The room is dark when Dean unties the blindfold from him and Castiel sobs with relief to see Dean's face.  

"Shh, baby, it's all right." There is a furrow between Dean's eyebrows as he assesses, removes the ropes carefully.  

"Was that-- Did I--" 

"Yeah, baby, you did a good job."  

He's relieved, so relieved and as soon as his hands are free Castiel lifts his arms up and Dean pulls him up into a hug, holding him tight and rubbing his back as Castiel sobs into his neck.  

"Such a good slut for me, Cas." He whispers into Castiel's ear and Castiel nods weakly, remembering other times, early days when he was more than this, when they were more than this.  

Dean's hand slips down, dips into the wetness at Castiel's hole and sighs. "What a mess he made of you, huh babe?"  

He knows what's coming next, what is expected of him. Castiels hands are trembling as he reaches down, undoing Dean's pants,  his own cock hard with the cock ring tied around it. Dean frees him of that too and Castiel shudders as the blood finally flows free and Dean strokes him to hardness all over again.  

Castiel wraps his arms around Dean's neck as tight as he can when the man finally enters him, murmuring into his ear about how used up his hole is, how wet it is inside. His hips move slowly, thrusting into him shallowly until Cas is whimpering through his pain, ready to start begging.  

"So? Who do you like more? Me or him?"  

"You." Castiel says it over and over, clutches to Dean, only Dean.  

When they're done, Dean sits at the edge of the bed, smoking and it feels almost normal then. Watching him, Castiel wonders if he'll ever get away, if he's going to be like this forever, if he'll be trapped like this forever. And then Dean looks at him and he smiles, a smile that is just for Castiel, just for him.  

"Come on, babe. I'll help you get cleaned up and get you tucked into bed."  

And Castiel smiles back.


End file.
